


three's a crowd, and four's a party

by tacnes



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacnes/pseuds/tacnes
Summary: “What the fuck?” Grimmjow blurted out. “You’re not Kurosaki.”“Wow,” Not-Kurosaki said, sneering. “Great fuckin’ observation. Want a prize for that one, Arrancar?”(Grimmjow meets Zangetsu. It goes about as well as it can.)
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 377





	three's a crowd, and four's a party

Clean-up after the Quincies was a fuckin’ bitch and a half.

Even though rebuilding Las Noches wasn’t exactly Harribel's priority, but the absolute beating they’d taken from the Quincies had left them all a little paranoid of another imminent invasion. Grimmjow hadn’t been at the palace at the time, but he’d heard enough to be pissed off. Even if he didn’t like Harribel, she was still the one who represented the Arrancar in Loch Noches at the end. An attack on her was an insult on them all.

It wasn’t like they could rely on Shinigami to get their shit together anyways. The pink haori wearing captain sure seemed diplomatic, but who knows what the hell could happen in the future. Las Noches was a shithole, but it was also technically _home_ , so yeah, Grimmjow endured Nelliel's preaching, the Tres Bestias’ bickering, and Harribel’s orders, and somehow managed to not kill anyone who would be missed too much.

Sometimes it did become too much though. The first time Grimmjow had become fed up with it all he’d booked it straight through a Garganta into the human world. He actually didn’t have a concrete plan in place—he landed near Urahara’s shop, intending to take out his frustrations on the crafty asshole—but as soon as he’d stepped out of the Garganta, he’d sensed a familiar reiatsu inside the shop, a bright flame burning like a beckon. A single sonido took him straight into the shop, and ignoring everyone else in the room, he’d locked eyes straight with Kurosaki.

The shock on Kurosaki’s face quickly shifted to understanding, quicker than the others. As if he’d anticipated this. Maybe he even looked forward to it. His blood pumped with anticipation as Kurosaki stood up, reassuring his friends (Cow Eyes, Glasses, and the Big Guy were here, along with Urahara himself, who watched from his corner with a kind of bemusement), and then jerked a thumb towards the back off the shop.

“In the bunker,” he said simply. Grimmjow scoffed, but followed along anyways.

“Don’t want your friends to see you lose?”

“Nah,” Kurosaki said, glancing back and pinned Grimmjow with a startling around of determination in his eyes. It pissed Grimmjow off. He wanted to beat it straight out of him. “Just wanna be able to go all out without destroying half the town.” Then he turned, leaping into a hole in the ground. Grinning viciously, Grimmjow followed.

The ensuring fight made all the waiting aworth it.

Somehow, they didn’t end up kill each other.

But they did fight again.

And again. And again.

They Kurosaki started bitching about _rest_ and _having a life_ and various other human related complaints that Grimmjow only half-listened to. Sunday evenings ended up becoming the designated fuck-Kurosaki-up day, but that didn’t stop Grimmjow from coming to the human world every few days to harass him about it. Needling Kurosaki ended up becoming the second best way to blow off some steam.

Somehow though, his impromptu visits tended to end with them of them messing around with Urahara’s latest invention (the man was keeping occupied despite the post-war peace), watching whatever human thing that was playing on the TV at Kurosaki's house (the things humans got up to—fucking weird), or getting absolutely wasted at whatever izakaya Kurosaki dragged him too on Friday nights. He had to borrow a meat suit from Urahara for those outings, one of the many inventions by said man.

Sometimes, Urahara and Yoruichi were there. Other times it was Kurosaki’s friends. But usually it was just the two of them, trading insults and sipping on shitty beer as Grimmjow discovered the wonder that was various meats cooked on wooden skewers.

It took Grimmjow a shamefully long time to realize that he’d become _soft._

On sparring days Grimmjow didn’t hold back on his punches, cause Kurosaki could take all of Grimmjow’s hits and probably more. But there was the occasional time where Grimmjow would spot a weak spot—the chance to break a bone, the chance to stab somewhere soft and painful—and he hesitate. He’d _hesitate_. If someone asked, Grimmjow would wave it off as wanting Kurosaki intact for their next battle, but Grimmjow was self-aware enough to know that it wasn’t entirely true.

When did he end up looking forward to Kurosaki’s fuckin’ smile more then his grimaces of pain?

After he’d come to that realization, he caught himself staring at Kurosaki more then he shouldn’t have. At his stupid warm eyes and his dumb face in particular. Man had the power of a fuckin' god, and here he was, smiling at Grimmjow and laughing like he was just a typical, run-of-the-mill human. Shoveling food in his stupidly soft looking mouth. Licking his fingers like some kind of animal. Blinking bright brown eyes up at Grimmjow before they went round with shock when Grimmjow leaned forward to lick the remains of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Sweet. And savory. Grimmjow watched through half-lidded eyes as Kurosaki’s face went red. Then purple. He waited patiently as the gears in Kurosaki’s brain stalled and started once more.

Kurosaki tackled him, pressing his lips to Grimmjow’s lips with surprising fervor.

Thank fucking god for private rooms.

The rest of the night was pretty hazy. Snatches of heat and warmth. Basic, carnal satisfaction. 

When Grimmjow had woken up the next morning in Kurosaki’s bed, half naked, fucking _spooning_ a very familiar orange-haired man, it was… actually not so bad.

That thought had been so alarming he’d shoved Kurosaki straight off the bed. The resulting tussle had ended with Kurosaki’s pint-sized sister barging in, hitting them both over the head with a spatula, and dragging them both to the kitchen to feed them. Grimmjow couldn’t find it in him to get pissed—the food was fuckin’ heavenly, and the way Kurosaki kept shooting him weird grins over his breakfast was very distracting.

He managed to get in three days close and personal Kurosaki time before Nelliel opened a Garganta straight into Kurosaki’s bedroom, kicked Grimmjow out of his gigai (he wasn’t sure how she’d achieved _that_ ) and dragged Grimmjow right back into Hueco Mundo. They’d fought, right there in the middle of the throne room until Harribel put her foot down.

He’d been rightfully pissed, but he did want she wanted, tracking some of Barragan’s leftover lackies with illusions of grandeur in record time. He hung around Las Noches a couple extra days, just so Harribel would stop giving him those judgemental looks, and then it was straight back into the human world.

Of course, as soon as he stepped back into the town he immediately sense something was wrong. It was nighttime, way past when Kurosaki went home for patrols, yet Grimmjow could sense his reiatsu at Urahara’s. Not only that, but Kurosaki’s usual warm flicker of energy was muted—like he was being suppressed, somehow. It took him a couple seconds to cross town and another to barge straight into Urahara’s shop.

Kurosaki was lying on the ground. Eyes closed, he was still in his Shinigami uniform. Scrutinizing him from head to toe, it immediately became apparent to Grimmjow that the man wasn’t injured at all.

“Kurosaki-san is fighting an internal battle. Something has invaded his mind, and he’s fighting back,” Urahara spoke before Grimmjow could even ask. Urahara sat at Kurosaki’s side. Yoruichi was leaning against a nearby wall, in human form. Neither of them looked surprised to see Grimmjow there.

“How the fuck did they get the jump on him?” Grimmjow stared at Kurosaki’s prone body. He didn’t look like he was fighting anything at all, asleep like this.

“We’re not sure,” Yoruichi said, eyes narrowed. “We felt a flare in his reiatsu, but he didn’t go into Bankai. Whatever it was, it must have had some unexpected abilities.”

“Hollow?”

Urahara nodded. “Most likely. We believe that this hollow has the power to invade a person’s inner world. We actually encountered something similar to this before, except it was a Zanpakuto that time. Kurosaki-kun played a heavy hand in defeating that particular foe of course, but the nature of this seems different.”

“What the hell do you mean? Is it ‘cause his reiatsu’s all fucked?”

“Indeed. I believe that Kurosaki-san’s consciousness is being suppressed.” Urahara tapped his fan against his stubbly chin, frowning. “However, Kurosaki-san is in possession of a rather powerful Zanpakuto. It should have been able to take care of it by now, but it’s been several hours. For it to take this long, either the hollow is stronger than we’d anticipated or Kurosaki-san’s Zanpakuto is having trouble finding it.”

Fuck. Grimmjow’s hands flexed with the urge to rip something apart. “So we just going to stand around while he’s being fucked up on the inside?” Grimmjow growled. “What if he doesn’t wake up?”

“My my, have more faith in Kurosaki-kun! He’s quite powerful, you know.”

“From the way he takes those beatings every week, he should know,” Yoruichi smirked. Bitch. Urahara waved his fan idly, interrupting before Grimmjow could turn on her.

“There is a way we could help him.” Grimmjow’s attention shifted from Yoruichi at once. Urahara lifted the fan to cover his mouth, but Grimmjow could _see_ his eyes smiling knowingly. Grimmjow let it slide this time. “After the last incident, I did some research on a Shinigami’s inner world. I believe I have a method that would allow one person to enter another person’s inner world.” A pause. “However, it seems that this hollow is blocking any interference from the outside… particularly Shinigami interference.”

It was obvious what Urahara was hedging towards. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. Urahara just looked back, gaze level. Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!” Urahara chirped brightly. “Please lie down next to Kurosaki-san. Close enough so your arms are touching, please.”

Grimmjow stared down at Kurosaki for a moment before sighing, doing as he was told. He pulled Pantera off his belt, lying it next to him on his right. On his left, Kurosaki was radiating a comfortable warmth. Last time he’d been this close it was curled on Kurosaki’s bed. The contrast in situations was a mood-killer.

“Fucking hell,” he said moodily, staring at Kurosaki’s peaceful face as Urahara did something above his head. “Everything’s complicated as hell with you, huh Kurosaki.”

“That’s correct,” Urahara said helpfully, face appearing above Grimmjow. “Now, Grimmjow-san, this method will only give you about fifteen minutes in there, although time may feel longer depending on the nature of the place. Also, please try your best not to damage anything in there—it _is_ Kurosaki’s inner mind after all.” Urahara raised a glowing hand over Grimmjow’s face. “He may or may not subconsciously reject you from entering, but since you're slept together, I don’t see it as a problem!”

“What the fu—”

Urahara’s hand gave out a burst of blinding white. Grimmjow was forced to squeeze his eyes shut.

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at a clear blue sky.

Reeling a little, he sat up, blinking spots from his vision. How the hell had Urahara found out? No way Kurosaki told him—he’d probably burst into flames first, knowing him. A little cheered at the mental image, he pulled himself to his feet, taking in his surroundings.

He was standing at the top of a building. He walked over to the edge, squinted over it. A _very_ tall building. Made out of glass. He could see a town below, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The buildings below were barely pinpricks. There were some mountains in the distance. For some reason, the landscape looked vaguely familiar.

If he were human, he’d probably piss his pants right now. But obviously, he wasn’t human. He stepped over the edge.

Wind rushed past him as he fell and kept falling. It really was a fucking tall building. Ten seconds into it and he was getting bored waiting to approach the ground. Twisting around, he examined the building. The glass of it reflected him like a mirror, and looking inside revealed nothing but empty concrete rooms.

As he approached the town below, he realized it looked very, very familiar.

It was Karakura.

He landed as quietly well above the town and sent a inquiring probe outward. Although it _looked_ like Karakura, he couldn’t sense any living souls in the town at all. He glanced behind him. Also, there was the huge fucking building, which definitely didn’t exist in the actual human world. He would have noticed that.

What the hell was wrong with Kurosaki, for the representation of his literal _mind_ to be the very town he lived in? Was it like this for all Shinigami? A quick gander told him that it wasn’t _exactly_ like the town. Grimmjow could spot a few landmarks that were farther than they probably should be, or closer. It kind of made sense—what kind of person had the ability to remember where everything was in a place anyways?

He squinted at the sun, shining high in the sky. It was too fucking bright. It felt almost brighter than it would be in the real world. It would make sneaking up on the hollow a little harder.

Well, not like that would stop him from tracking his prey. Flashing down onto the streets below, he began his hunt.

His tracking ability wasn’t nearly as good out of Resurrección, but he didn’t want to alert it if it really was a sneaky one. But after almost a full circuit of the town, he was starting to get annoyed. Where the hell was this fucker?

Partial Resurrección was always a pain in the ass, but fuck if he was letting the hollow get away. He transformed his main senses—sight, hearing and smell, his ears lengthening and eyes sharpening. Like this, it only took a few seconds to find the faintest whiffs of a trail—unfamiliar hollow reishi, barely detectable. Grinning viciously, he followed it.

As he tracked it, he couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t able to sense any other creatures in the town, even partially transformed. Hadn’t Urahara said something about Kurosaki’s Zanpakuto? Grimmjow couldn’t sense anything other then the hollow he was tracking, so where the hell was it? What the hell did a Zanpakuto even look like in a Shinigami’s inner world? Somehow, he doubted it was just a fuckin’ blade on legs.

He’d never really considered the question before today. Pantera wasn’t exactly a sentient thing he could just talk to. It was simply the embodiment of his power. It didn’t have a will of his own. Kurosaki had occasionally referred to his sword as if it were sentient, but Grimmjow thought it was just one of those weird Kurosaki things, rather then a Shinigami-wide phenomenon. 

He followed the scent to the outskirts of town to what looked like be an apartment complex. He circled it a few times, keeping low until he pinpointed a faint shuffling of footsteps on the roof. He drew Pantera, ready to leap up and take out the hollow and—

 _Boom_. Concrete rained down the sides of the building, windows shattering as it shook from the force of being hit by something. There was the ghastly shriek of a hollow accompanied by an unfamiliar high-pitched laugh. The explosion of a dark, pulsing hollow reiatsu wasn’t the one he was tracking—in fact, it was a very _very_ familiar reiatsu. Swearing, Grimmjow flashed to the top of the building.

The entire rooftop was engulfed in a cloud of debris, but just from the faint silhouette in the dust Grimmjow recognized Kurosaki’s distinctive figure—the stupid spiky hair, the uniform, even the sword. But as the dust cleared, revealing the crater that had been made in the rooftop, it became abundantly clear that it wasn’t. Looking at the back of the figure’s head, Grimmjow saw white hair, white skin, a white uniform—even a white sword. The figure turned, revealing familiar yellow-on-black eyes. But this wasn’t a reassurance—instead of bright and eager glow Grimmjow was used to, Kurosaki’s familiar features were twisted in sneer of contempt.

“What the fuck?” Grimmjow blurted out. “You’re not Kurosaki.” 

“Wow,” Not-Kurosaki said, sneering. “Great fuckin’ observation. Want a prize for that one, Arrancar?”

There was a warbling, hollow-like distortion to his voice, similar to how Kurosaki sounded with his mask on, but the tone was entirely different. Voice edged with derision, crude in a way Kurosaki wasn’t, it sounded like a completely different person.

The hollow at Not-Kurosaki’s feet twitched. It was Adjuchas, maybe on the brink of Vasto Lorde. It was a fuckin’ disgrace that it took this long to track it, but it looked like it had some specific cloaking abilities. Not-Kurosaki’s gaze shifted, and without hesitation, he bashed the dull end of his sword into its wounded body. The hollow screeched, and tried to crawl away. Not-Kurosaki slammed his foot onto its throat.

“Fuckin’ pain in the ass,” Not-Kurosaki grinded his heel in, not even flinching when the hollow tried to swipe at him. “Think you can come in here and not get punished? This is _my_ realm.”

He shoved his sword into the hollow’s body, pinning it in place. Reiatsu gathered in Not-Kurosaki's palm, a ball of black and red—a cero. Face manic, a grin splitting his face, he vaporized the hollow in a flash of red.

Grimmjow watched, faintly bewildered as fragments of the hollow’s reishi were pulled and absorbed by Not-Kurosaki.

He was eating it. Like a hollow. 

“Well now that that’s finished,” Not-Kurosaki said, and turned. Grimmjow, still reeling by the scene before him, barely raised his sword in time to deflect a blow. His hands shook with the impact. Swords locked, Not-Kurosaki leaned forward, face split by a savage grin.

Looking at this strange version of Kurosaki, wielding Kurosaki’s power and Kurosaki’s sword… what else could it be but the manifestation of the man’s power? Grimmjow didn’t know very much about Shinigami, other then how to kill them, but he was sure as hell that they didn’t have hollows running around unchecked in their inner world. Grimmjow gritted his teeth. Shoving Not-Kurosaki back, he swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing the other man to leap back.

“What the fuck!” Grimmjow snarled.

“ _What the fuck!”_ Not-Kurosaki said mockingly. “What, don’t like being attacked out of the blue, Arrancar?”

“What the hell are you attacking me for? You’re Kurosaki’s Zanpakuto, aren’t you!?”

Not-Kurosaki laughed, a high pitched, crazed sound. “Are you kidding me?” he crowed. “I’ve been waiting to fight you for fucking ages!” He lifted his sword, a familiar technique glowing at the edges of it. Grimmjow dodged a crescent of white energy, then swung around just in time to ward off another attack.

Leave it to Kurosaki to have a deranged, hollow Zanpakuto. Whatever. Grimmjow wasn’t one to turn down a good fight.

It was like fighting Kurosaki but it wasn’t. Grimmjow could see some of Kurosaki’s techniques, but there was a feral quality to the Zanpakuto’s movements that Kurosaki didn’t have. It was ruthlessness, brute strength mixed with pure recklessness in every swing. There was the same hollow Reiatsu that always flared when Kurosaki pulled out his mask but with this one, Grimmjow could sense nothing but pure hollow.

There was something missing though. As they separated from another clash, Grimmjow spoke up.

“Where’s the other one?”

The Zanpakuto’s eyes narrowed.

“Other what?”

“The other sword.” Grimmjow nodded at the Zanpakuto’s empty hand. “Kurosaki has two swords. Where’s the other one?”

The Zanpakuto squinted at Grimmjow for a few seconds, as if he hadn’t expected Grimmjow to notice. Then he shrugged, hefting his sword onto his shoulder.

“Who knows where that old man’s gone,” he said. “Probably off to check up on King.” He snorted. “As if that’ll do any good. He just needs to wake up and grow a fucking pair. Taken out by a fucking Adjuchas? Such a pussy. An embarrassment really.”

Grimmjow’s temper flared. “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped. “Don’t talk about him like that.” The Zanpakuto tilted his head, a disturbing grin stretching across his face.

“I know him better then you ever will, I can say whatever the fuck I want. Who the hell do you think you are anyways?” He tilted his head back, sneering. “You’re just some cannon fodder that won’t leave us the fuck alone. Trailing King like some kind of stray cat, falling for the first thing that gives you a shred of fucking kindness—”

Grimmjow was in Resurrección before he was even conscious of it. Grimmjow saw the Zanpakuto's eyes widen the split second before he was on him.

The ensuring fight was pure brutality. Even as the scales tipped towards Grimmjow, the Zanpakuto held his own—he had all of Kurosaki’s skills but none of the soft-hearted restraint. “What, no Bankai?” Grimmjow snarled as the hollow went on defence. Metal shrieked as his claws grinded against his sword. “You’re only half of Kurosaki’s power! You better power up before I rip you open and carve your fucking bones!”

The Zanpakuto’s eyes narrowed. Grimmjow saw some rage in there. Good. The creature leapt backwards into a familiar stance. It’s reiatsu burning.

“Ban—”

The build of reiatsu halted. Both of them froze as a tall figure in a long black coat materialized onto a corner of the roof, looming like a wayward ghost.

The man wore all black, his hair and coat billowing in some non-existent wind. He looked faintly familiar, but Grimmjow couldn’t pinpoint why. The reiatsu he gave out was different. It wasn’t Shinigami-like at all. It was almost…weaker. Grimmjow was reminded of those Quincy fuckers, who were difficult to judge by reiatsu alone. But at the end, it was still familiar—it was Kurosaki all the way through.

“Perhaps that is unwise,” the newcomer said, addressing the Zanpakuto. The Kurosaki look-alike clicked his tongue, lowering his sword slightly. He looked faintly irritated.

“I don’t give a shit,” the Zanpakuto said, but he did seem somewhat mollified. “He’s waking up?”

The old man nodded. “With the hollow gone, it seems the surge of foreign reiatsu was enough.”

“Who the hell are you?” Grimmjow grumbled, glaring at the newcomer. “How many weirdos lives inside of Kurosaki? Seems a little crowded to me.”

The man in the black coat was a startling contrast to the hollow, regarding Grimmjow steadily, calmly. Almost knowingly, like he could read Grimmjow from a look alone. It felt almost worst the hollow's disdain.

“I am also the manifestation of Kurosaki’s powers,” the man said, confirming Grimmjow’s suspicions. “I am the short sword of Zangetsu.” The man glanced at the crater that the hollow had been killed in. “It’s thanks to you that we were able to find the hollow so quickly.” He dipped his head. “You have our thanks.”

The Kurosaki look-alike turned and spat. “Speak for yourself, asshole. As if we even needed him.”

Grimmjow’s narrowed widened in realization. “You were following me?” He hadn’t been able to sense it at all. Kurosaki’s look-alike sneered.

“As if I’d trust someone like _you_ to wander this place unchecked.”

“You stole my fucking kill!”

“’Cause you’re too slow!”

“I was about to kill it! What’s your problem, anyways?! It’s not like I’m trying to kill Kurosaki anymore!”

“Ya can’t tell?!” The Zanpakuto pointing his sword at Grimmjow, face wild. “Look at this place! Ever since you two started fucking it’s been sunny as hell! I’m part hollow you know?!"

What the fuck.

“What the hell do you want me to do about that?!”

“He’s coming,” the old man suddenly interrupted, looking towards the sky. The Kurosaki look-alike snarled, a wordless sound of frustration.

A figure appeared in the sky, dropping down on the rooftop. Grimmjow refused to acknowledge the relief the sight Ichigo Kurosaki, conscious and whole, brought him. Kurosaki straightened from his crouch and took in the scene, squinting with bewilderment as he looked between his Zanpakuto’s and the crater in the middle of the rooftop.

“Geez it’s sunny in here,” Kurosaki said. Then his eyes fell on Grimmjow, his eyes brightening. “You’re okay, thank god. Urahara told me you’d be out in a bit, but your body outside had gone into Resurrección so I wanted to drop in to check.”

Grimmjow reverted back, sealing his powers back into his sword. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Of course I’m okay,” he said gruffly. Dammit, why did Kurosaki look so relieved? It wasn’t like Grimmjow was the invalid here. “The hollow was just Adjuchas.”

“No I mean…” Kurosaki eyed his white look-alike. “Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d be mistaken as an enemy or not.” The look-alike sneered.

“Who the fuck cares if he’s not an enemy? I’m still gonna fight him.”

“…Right.” Kurosaki scrubbed the back of his neck. “Um. So, I guess introductions are in order. Grimmjow, this is Zangetsu,” he gestured to the black cloaked man. “Old man's my Zanpakuto, and also the materialization of my Quincy powers.” He glanced at his look-alike. “And uh, this is also Zangetsu. He’s also the materialization of my Hollow powers. Either way, they’re both my Zanpakuto.”

Grimmjow looked between the two figures. Hollow Zangetsu looked faintly annoyed, while the other one was unfazed as ever.

“You’re a freak, Kurosaki.”

Kurosaki shrugged. “Yeah, I know.” He glanced at Hollow Zangetsu. “It’s been a wild ride. I’m actually not used to coming in here for things for things to be so…peaceful.”

Grimmjow frowned. “What?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m always tryin’ to kill him.” Hollow Zangetsu drawled. Kurosaki’s gaze hardened a little.

“No, you’ve never tried to kill me,” he said, voice surprisingly adamant. “You were helping me.” The Zanpakuto’s lip curled.

“It’s shit like this that’s gonna get ya killed one day, King.”

Grimmjow felt something in him shift. He looked down at his body and saw himself glowing with the same yellow reiatsu Urahara’s hand had been glowing with Kurosaki nodded, not looking surprised.

“Looks like you’ll be going back now,” he said. Hollow Zangetsu waved.

“Let’s fight again another time, Arrancar,” he said, voice mocking. Kurosaki’s eyes widened.

“So you _did_ attack him!”

“I meant what I said, King. If you weren’t so stupid we wouldn’t have to have weird shit crawling around here.”

There was a weird dynamic between the two of them. Standing next to each other, the contrast between the two of them became even more pronounced. Grimmjow glanced at Quincy Zangetsu, who seemed completely unaffected by the whole thing.

“Right,” Grimmjow said, interrupting their bickering. “Before I go…” Grimmjow swaggered up to Kurosaki, and before the man could react, slapped his ass. Kurosaki yelped, face turning scarlet.

“What the fuck!” He yelled. Grimmjow grinned wickedly.

The last thing Grimmjow saw in Kurosaki’s inner world was Hollow Zangetsu’s murderous expression. Quincy Zangetsu face didn’t change a bit, but Grimmjow thought he looked faintly resigned.

“See ya,” he waved as the world around him faded to white.

He opened his eyes to Urahara peering down at him. Reflexively, he threw a punch.

“Whoa!” Urahara dodged back easily. “I see you’re back with us, Grimmjow-san. You had us a little worried, going into your release form like that!”

Grimmjow sat up, blinking spots from his vision. Glancing back, Urahara was sitting cross-legged. Yoruichi seemed to have switch forms at some point, licking her cat ass. Gross.

“Kurosaki’s Zanpakuto’s an asshole,” he said. Urahara hummed thoughtfully.

“Unexpected but not surprising! Stronger Zanpakuto’s can be temperamental.”

At the corner of his vision, Kurosaki’s prone body shifted, clearly coming awake. His eyes snapped open and he immediately pushed himself upright, glaring at Grimmjow.

“Why’d you do that?!” He demanded. His face was entirely red. “Now he wants to kill you!”

“Which one?” Grimmjow said interestedly. Kurosaki’s grimaced.

“Hollow Zangetsu obviously! Do you know how often I have to hold back his murderous urges? We spar every week, what if he tries to take control?!”

Grimmjow snorted. “I can take him. It’s not my fault you have such a nice ass.”

Urahara lifted his fan to his mouth, clearly holding back laughter. Yoruichi stopped licking her ass long enough to stare at Kurosaki’s, assessing. Kurosaki’s face, somehow, went even more red.

Urahara ended up kicking them out pretty quickly after their impromptu wrestling session started to turn into something that definitely skirted the edges of PDA. They managed to make it back to Kurosaki’s bedroom, and Grimmjow got some very missed, close-and-personal time with Kurosaki’s ass. 

It was only afterwards, both of them basking in the afterglow did Grimmjow remember to ask.

“How _did_ you get caught by such a weak ass hollow?” Kurosaki straightened a little in Grimmjow’s arms, shooting him a wary look.

“Er, well.” Kurosaki scratched his cheek, looking sheepish. “I was actually helping out a Plus. Konso wasn’t working, and I was having a hard time figuring it out. Turns out a hollow was hiding in her soul, slowly leaking the Reishi from her.” His eyes darted away from Grimmjow’s. “It was going to kill her. So I uh, managed to scare it into my soul instead. I was going to enter my inner world and to kill it, but I didn’t think it would be able to suppress me like that. Luckily, you and Zangetsu was there to help out.”

How typically Kurosaki. Grimmjow shoved his face into the crook of Kurosaki’s neck, biting punishingly. Kurosaki made a sound of surprise, but it wasn’t in protest.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Grimmjow said once he’d released him. Kurosaki had the gall to _laugh_. A hand circled around Grimmjow’s neck, warm and comforting.

“Yeah,” Kurosaki said. “I guess I am.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm in Grimmichi hell.
> 
> This isn't the first fic I started for this pair but it's the first I finished cause the other one is taking so long it's killing me LOL. Decided to start writing completed fics since I don't seem to have the attention span for ongoing ones :(
> 
> Writing hollow zangetsu and grimmjow interacting made me realize they're like, extreeeemly similar LOL. Ichigo sandwich? 😏 I'd read that fanfic.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked this fic!! ;v;
> 
> Anyways, I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Tac_nes) too!


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